Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe
by From the Silent Planet
Summary: The irrepressible marauders are back, reprising their roles respectively as the intrepid and just possibly obsessive stag, charismatic werewolf, soothsaying grim and dogooder rat. Their mission: to prove that they really are from an alternate reality...
1. Madame Snuffles Predicts Your Death

Summary:

The irrepressible marauders are back, reprising their roles respectively as the intrepid (and just possibly obsessive) stag, charismatic werewolf, soothsaying grim and do-gooder rat. Their mission: to prove once and for all that they really _are_ from an alternate dimension and can manipulate the fabric of time…

Disclaimer:

When first you practice to deceive,

Remember what you may be forced to leave.

A stay in prison I am wont to make,

On Rowling's story I make no stake.

A/N: Non-slash

* * *

Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe.

The shrouded figure hovered low over the glass orb, the center of which was beginning to turn opaque. Blinking owlishly from behind a pair of stolen glasses, he began to speak in a solemn voice.

"_Mars crosses paths with Venus tonight, an explosive end to the drama in you dorm I sense in the near future. Beware the white rabbit and the tunnel." _

The figure leaned away from the traumatized Hufflepuff third-year, winking into the shadows and mouthing the words 'write that down.'

A gong sounded from the side of the room, and the figure suddenly stood, drawing its arms into the air and boomed. "THE END OF THE SLIME WAR IS COMING UPON YOU!"

The third-year shot out of her chair and ran whimpering for the door, where she was released by another hooded figure.

The first figure let out a barking laugh and removed his hood.

* * *

Deception had never really been Remus Lupin's predilection. For that matter, neither had divination, but it seemed he was now elbow deep in both woolly arts. 

When Sirius had approached him about another moneymaking scheme, he'd assumed they would get caught after the first twenty minutes and he would be scot-free with a detention.

However, it seemed setting up a classroom and offering prophecies was a perfectly legal thing to do in Hogwarts, and Sirius had capitalized on the idea very quickly.

He was the mastermind behind the whole endeavor and so—at James' failure to involve Evans in the scheme—was the one dressed as the witch and selling his soul for a few sickles.

They'd been going strong for three weeks now, averaging over seven 'prophecies' per hour. Sirius had been trying to speed up the visionary process, but James had refused to relent on the ritual he had as doorkeeper, which took almost six minutes in itself after he asked several supposedly 'aura-refining' questions.

It took a good deal longer if the fool who walked in was an attractive girl.

"That's eight already Moony, we're running hot!" Sirius whooped in the middle of the room. The lights came on after the third-year left, showing the dingy storeroom and rickety table that formed their 'hallway of enlightenment.'

James stood blearily by the door. Sirius had taken to wearing his glasses during hours, so James was going cross-eyed as he swayed in a stupor.

Remus thought he was probably allergic to all the candles that Sirius had stolen from the Divination room.

"Is Pete back with that air freshener yet? I already used four cans today but I can't seem to get that stupid cat smell out of anything…" Sirius had his hands on his hips, and was glaring at the boxes which also shared in the journey of the 'room of illumination.'

Come to think of it, Remus was beginning to feel a little woozy himself.

Pete came running in, precariously balancing seven cans of muggle air sanitizer and a box of chocolate donuts.

Remus sighed in delight. "I always knew you were a god," he muttered, diving for the box before Sirius caught sight of it.

"One of those house-elfs offered them to me when I was looking for Sirius' scent stuff," he replied.

"Down to the depths of the sensory world I send you, you foul olfactory scent! I bequeath thee the name of death and hope your passing to the next world goes unhindered!" Sirius had thrown his shawls on the ground and was fumigating the back of the room with a can of aerosol in each hand. Remus thanked the heavens they all had owls instead of cats.

He was almost through the second batch of cans when James finally collapsed on the floor, fingers clawing pathetically at his swollen throat. Remus decided it was probably time to get him out of the room.

He and Pete each grabbed a foot and drug James out of the room, listening to Sirius scream murder to the entire feline race, oblivious to the throes of his best friend behind him.

As the door slammed shut, he resolved to send someone back for Sirius' body at some point.

* * *

"...then the werelings made me their chief, and they prepared a huge feast—in fact, they even named the day after me. Did I mention I saved them from the snorlack?" 

Remus nodded absently, watching as Madame Pompfrey prodded at a very dead-looking James. Peter sat reading a piece of paper handed to him by the absent-looking boy across from him. He seemed very confused as to why the boy insisted he read the article upside down.

Well, he certainly could have done worse, as Remus was finding out while he listened to Lockhart wax insane.

Madame Pompfrey was banging against James' chest, looking very agitated. Remus sighed and settled in on the bench, pulling a corner of his robe to cover the chocolate stains on his knee. Or maybe it was dirt.

"Hey Re, do you think we should go back for Sirius?" Peter had edged as far away from the strange Ravenclaw as possible and was looking desperate for some means of escape.

"If you feel like dragging him back here, I guess," Remus shrugged. "I don't think that toxic spray bothers him at all, though."

Peter nodded in acquiescence but got up anyway, ambling out of the room as he said "just to be sure."

* * *

The gray was an enormous relief after a few millennia's worth of black. He had a sudden vision of the dancing lollies that were waiting ruthlessly for him on the other side of the grayness, and he decided that asking the girl to sail the gondola back to the black might be a good idea. 

A great wave swamped the gondola, and the girl jumped off and turned into a tuna and swam away, leaving him knee-deep in soda pop and hoping the great bird swooping down upon him would be gentle.

As it was, the blazing power of the star Sol, or else—as he was beginning to think—the dull lighting of the hospital wing, swatted angrily at his previously calm visage, and he was forced to open his eyes to the forsaken sight of Sirius leaning over him, looking petulant.

"So, you're the seagull," he sighed.

His glasses were handed to him and he sat up, groaning as his back clicked into place.

He blinked as Remus kicked Sirius in the shins; furthering the pathetic look Sirius was giving him.

"I'msorryItriedtokillyouwithcatsmellremovingstuff." Sirius muttered, glaring at the bare patch of carpet next to James' bed.

Remus rolled his eyes and collapsed on the bed across from James. "McGonagall shut down Soothsayers Anonymous, I'm afraid," he informed James, not looking the least bit apologetic. James considered his words.

"Madame Snuffles is gone forever," Sirius whispered sadly.

"It wasn't just because of me, was it?" James demanded.

Remus shook his head. "It's also got something to do with the thirty students who came to her last week, wanting to quit school and live the rest of their lives in exile. Or it could be that she's discovered who was responsible for the Snape escapade, but I doubt it—"

"The perfect prank," Sirius murmured reverently. "The Snape escapade was the perfect prank. We must reach for that standard of excellence in our next enterprise," he fixed them each with a careful stare, securing their allegiance and devotion to whatever the next enterprise would be.

Madame Pompfrey released James later that night, and he gamely went back to the common room, eager to see what sort of horrors Sirius had managed to release in his absence.

* * *

"No, I tell you, keeping it in here is not a good idea!" Remus and Sirius were having a stare down over a drawstring bag. 

The bag, known as 'Sirius' Magic Bag of Mystical Magic Fun For Sirius Only So Bugger Off' or, more commonly, 'the bag' was lying on James' bed, which, he was sure, would do nothing for his health.

"Where am I suppose to put it then? It'll spell certain doom for all if it is found by the spies, I'm warning you—"

"Just shove it in the closet and be done with it," James growled, not in the mood to fight over 'the bag.'

Sirius' eyes widened and he stepped back, hand over his heart. "The mystical bag will not be treated that way, you unbeliever!" He shot out, voice ringing in the quiet din that was the sixth-year boys dorm room.

Remus groaned, mouthing something from behind Sirius. James caught the words 'needs sleep.'

Sirius was looking quite wild, eyes bloodshot from the incense. James waited patiently.

Sure as vampires drink blood, Sirius' eyes began to droop and he suddenly dropped the fight, burrowing into his bed with the mystical bag next to him and snoring quite abrasively.

Remus chuckled, and grinned merrily at James. "What would life be like without Sirius' inner clock, I wonder?"

Peter swallowed the lemon drop and grinned. "A good deal more flexible and less extravagant, I'm sure."

* * *

A/N: Shorter, perhaps, then I may have liked, but tell me what you think and I'll tell you who you are…er…or maybe I'll just think about the next chapter, eh? 


	2. Always Drink Upstream From the Herd

Well, after two and a half months of using the excuse 'thinking about the next chapter,' I figure it's probably time to update.

I figure if I owned Harry Potter I woulda' gotten a check or something by now, so I guess I don't. Can't you just see the dreams going down the drain?

That counts as a disclaimer, by the way. Well, perhaps not legally, but who ever worries about _that_ nowdays?

A/N: No slash.

* * *

Chapter Two: Always Drink Upstream From the Herd 

James was half-hidden behind a packing crate, sniffing suspiciously. The packing crate groaned, wondering how it ever became so unfortunate as to be used to store pranking paraphernalia. Children, it decided, became more insane and uncontrollable every decade.

"Sirius, have you been using my dungbombs?" James peered over the top of his glasses.

Sirius jerked his head out of The Bag and stared dumbly across the room. "Of course not— when I'm out I always use Peter's," he stated bluntly.

"It's just that I'm somehow down to half the amount that I had yesterday, and I was in detention till midnight after that Hufflepuff got frightened by your predictions. It's suspicious, that's all."

"I think Sirius dungbombs in his sleep; I swear I've heard him leaving the room at night…and _smelt _him when he comes back…" Remus had been reading in the common room the last time James had been down there, but seemed to have migrated upstairs and sprawled onto his bed. He spoke between a facefull of mattress.

"Says we should add two spoonfuls of butterbeer after the firewhiskey starts to smolder," Sirius yapped happily, stirring the bubbling cauldron and ignoring the flames spurting from the pewter depths.

The alcoholic beverage—properties unknown—was being created straight from Sirius's broad imagination. He was hoping it would be useful in The Prank. The Prank, as of yet, was still in The Bag, but it was yearning for its release. Soon.

Remus stretched out, smelling—figuratively for the most part—the awakening of something that he was quite certain he would not like. That included most of what was cooked up—also, usually figuratively speaking—by the mind or equivalent thereof that was contained between the ears of Sirius Black.

"Are we supposed to be planning a prank, or something?" Peter said nervously, from his corner of the bedroom. After Sirius's belongings had captured his bed he'd been forced to take up residence in the nook across from James's four-poster. He thought it was comfortable enough, but only because being bitter seemed to take up too much energy.

Sirius perked up. "Prank? Are we planning another prank? I'm in!"

Peter tried heroically to gobble his fleeing words as Remus glared holes through his back.

"I just thought…er, that is, I was thinking that, well…" Peter turned to look desperately at Remus. The werewolf pulled out a beater's bat and stood towering over Sirius, grinning darkly.

_

* * *

_

It wasn't that James didn't like his friends. But he had a serious case of missing dungbombs and no one seemed to care. He decided to make his presence known.

"If you all don't spit up seven boxes of dungbombs there won't be any pranking at all, I swear," He stated dramatically.

Sirius toppled over unconscious, narrowly missing a painful encounter with a boiling cauldron. Remus's grin became more manic than ever.

James despaired for the continuation of Marauder's Inc…. obviously, they were seriously lacking in discipline. And in self-control.

Sirius drooled on the carpet as a lovely purple bruise bloomed on his left temple.

Mostly in self-control.

He'd been thinking about getting angry at Remus for a few minutes when a distraction came bursting in the room.

It was loud, red-haired, and extremely scary distraction. He felt his face go red and hoped their dirty clothes pile hadn't taken on sentience yet, or anything embarrassing like that.

Lily Evans had come, and she smelled distressingly of dungbombs.

Her eyes glowed green, and her ears seemed to be emitting smoke. She stepped on Sirius and shoved Remus into the empty wastebasket as she wove a path of destruction to his corner of the universe.

James made a running dive for the window as she caught up with him. Somehow, getting to go flying once more—quite a vertical flight downwards, but still—sounded a lot better then the alternative disembowelment.

Lily Evans snorted and shoved some of the socks off his bed, which she promptly collapsed on.

And James, upon hitting the floor, fainted.

_Or perhaps he was knocked out. When the details were being related to school officials at a later date, no one in the dorm seemed to be able to remember. (Which was unfortunate, as this was only the beginning of The Prank. Actually, it was the pre-beginning, as the beginning could not begin while Sirius Black remained out of action.) _

_Perhaps the inability to recall this portion of events was because the only sane ones were, respectfully, stuck in a garbage pail and the indirect cause of the sudden attack of unconsciousness. _

_Names were going to be changed to protect the innocent; only no one seemed to be able to determine just who the innocent was._

* * *

When James reclaimed consciousness, he discovered himself to be, of all places, lying face down on the floor of the sixth-year boys dormitory, staring into the face of a rather _fragrant _Lily Evans. 

"Lookin' good, love," he said, trying to smile charmingly. He failed…landing in a pile of one's own dirty socks can achieve that end nine times out of ten.

"And smelling even better," Sirius chirped from near Peter's nook. He was nursing a purple bruise with a box of Popsicles, pressed firmly against his temple. A melted grape path was weaving itself down the side of his face.

"Has anyone seen Peter recently?" Remus was poking random piles, evidently hoping that one of them held a cleverly disguised sixth year.

Remus lifted the corner of the-bed-which-had-formerly-been-Peter's, gave a muffled 'oomph' and disappeared from view.

James turned back to what seemed to be the biggest threat in the room. With the exception, of course, of Sirius's mushroom collection, which was seething.

"So, what brings you to, err…." He decided, all things considered, that sweet-talk would not save him now, any better than it had after the mysterious outbreak of '74. Which hadn't been his fault. Sirius's, perhaps, but not his; at least not directly.

No one had died though. He supposed that was fortunate…for some reason the teacher's seemed to care when Slytherin appendages started falling off randomly. Odd.

Lily ignored him and glanced over at Sirius, who was wiggling his eyebrows fetchingly at James's Comet 180. "Is he always that odd?" She asked, glancing briefly back at a flustered James.

Here she was, actually speaking to him—sitting on his bed even (which, now that he thought about it, was rather embarrassing considering the week-old fries on the nightstand)—and she did nothing but stare at Sirius, who was making a right fool of himself.

"Not when he's actually present, no. In the mental sense, I mean," James said grudgingly.

Lily's brow tilted, gracefully for someone who smelled like a pen used for keeping cattle—before Hercules diverted rivers in the pursuit of cleanliness—and she glanced briefly at him. Again.

He was beginning to find it most annoying.

Mutterings of the vaguely cynical sort were coming from the directions of the storage pile that was, in a past life, Peter's bed. Words like 'desperate' and 'preventive' coupled with strange phrases like 'insurance policies' and 'go to McGonagall' seemed to be uttered by what looked remarkably like a rubbish-covered mattress. James elected to ignore this for the time being.

"Is there something we should do for him then? I mean, speaking from someone who's seen normal people—well, not for a while, but I can remember meeting some—head injuries like this usually can't be cured by Popsicles," Lily tilted her head to meet her eyebrow. "At least, not that I know of."

"It's okay, he'll be himself again in no time." _If that's any consolation. _James drug himself across the floor, still not trusting his addled perception of normality in the universe not to fail him in the gravitational sense should he try to stand. He reached Sirius, pried the gooey box of what had been a delicious summertime snack away, and poked the purple-tinted bruise on Sirius's forehead.

His best friend glared balefully at him, which James took to be a good sign. James rolled over to give Lily a thumbs-up, vertebrae creaking in protest as he rolled directly across several hard arm-braces and a protesting miniature Quidditch player from the Cannons.

A sudden cry of "Now!" rang through the room and several dust-covered blurs who could only have been Peter and Remus thundered through the room towards the door, stopping only to pick themselves off the floor when they quite forgot the door had been locked. Which was odd, as it had been ajar a minute ago, but then, Sirius always was handy with a wand, no matter what dimension his brain was currently visiting. His magic had a way of knowing, and telling his limbs and mouth, whenever there was a chance that someone was going to tell McGonagall something he'd rather her not know. It was a gift.

"Why'd you let them go? We're gonna have to think of a cover story now. I hope you've got one, cause I'm fresh out," He kicked randomly towards Sirius, hitting a year-old box of biscuits and a ball of yarn, which rolled across the floor and under Sirius's bed. Never to be seen again.

"Wait, what have you all done wrong? I'm allowed to be in here, I looked it up in Hogwarts, A—" She was abruptly cut off when Sirius sprang to life.

"It's not what we've done now, Evans…It's what we're probably going to do. Besides, just letting McGonagall come in here and not think something is seriously up when she leaves would be in bad form. Wouldn't it, Prongs?"

James was as nonplussed by Sirius's abrupt change in levels of consciousness as always. Turning his head, which seemed a greater expenditure of energy than normal, to look at Lily, he asked the question that had been burning on his mind for, say, a few minutes at least.

"What exactly are you doing here? And no lies this time!" He shifted uncomfortably as the angry beater he was currently squishing like a mammoth sack of flour poked him sharply with his miniscule bat.

Lily scoffed at this, or would have if she hadn't been glancing through the pictures under James's pillow. He took immediate worry to this, as he wasn't eager for her to see how many she featured in. He muttered an accio charm, and as the pictured sailed to land next to him he hoped she would think she'd only dropped them. Though most dropped objects do not land in neat little piles. He cursed his excessive perfection in methods of acquisition. He shouldhave known it would ruin him some day.

"I didn't lie to you the first time, you haven't even gotten around to asking me yet. And as for that, I was just wanting to ask a question," She watched him squirm for a while, before admitting defeat to the Quidditch figurine and pulling himself into a sitting position. It took him a full eight minutes and he had a sudden premonition about Quidditch practice that evening. Or rather, what it was going to make him feel like. Probably like the cow Lily smelled so strongly of, only after it had been run over.

"Well why don't you just ask it already?" He grumbled. "It's not a problem, really, but if you can't tell we aren't at our best right now. It would probably help if you weren't here."

Sirius stuck his head through the crack in the door that led to the bathroom, looking confused. "How would it help, exactly?"

James gave him The Eye. It had been perfected by Lily, naturally, but he fancied himself a bit of an expert on receiving it, and so copying it was a mere retaliation of facial muscles and such. Only he didn't really have the eye color for it. After all, deer are rarely the most malevolent of creatures, unless one, or one's vehicle, manages to insult them.

"Because then I could lie on my bed and let my back recover. It'll probably take months after all the abuse it's suffered today, and lying on the floor makes it worse. We should probably add a day of recovery time for every minute I spend down here."

He thought that gleam in Lily's eye held an evil glint to it, and didn't care for it at all.

Not at all.

"So, Evans, if you don't mind me asking, _whodunit?_" Sirius's face was currently hidden behind a towel, which James considered an improvement. No need poisoning Lily's mind with chiseled cheekbones, even if they were covered in stubborn purple goop.

"What did you say, Black? I'm not sure I heard you past _The Muppet's,_" She pointed to the technicolor representation of Miss Piggy and Kermit gracing the front of Sirius's towel. It was Remus's, actually, though how he had come by it was a tale left a little hazy, as far as James was concerned.

"I think he was inquiring as to how you managed to end up smelling worse than Zonko's best, if you don't mind me asking," Remus stuck his head in the door. He was Peter-less at the moment, though he did leave the door suspiciously wide-open. As if he was expecting a carthorse.

Or a teacher.

Lily was nudging the cauldron with her foot. It was hovering a few inches off the ground now, seemingly of its own accord. James had another fleeting vision as to the future—this one included a cauldron of dubiously-acquired mixed-drink, likely poisoned, coming fully to life and emptying itself upon his Head of House.

He began to feel ill, and wished he could move, if only to use his limp body as a dead weight on the rising cauldron.

Fortunately, he turned out to be almost dead wrong about his prediction for the future. McGonagall did come storming up the stairs and entered the room with far more of a din than should have been required. It was perhaps because Peter, who had been directly behind her, chose this time to crash into what seemed to be thin air and fall down the stairs.

The silence was rather catacomb-like as Peter echoed down the stairs, evidently hitting every bit of thin air he could on his way down and cursing at the lot of it.

"Hi, Professor!" Sirius jumped up happily, which was what he usually did when he saw McGonagall, though this was one of the few times he actually had a right to be, as he was seemingly innocent of any wrong doing recently. Not including the cauldron. Or The Bag.

But they were minor details. Until the cauldron gave a roaring leap, startling Lily who landed with a sound thump and clatter in a pyramid of used cans. She groaned as James gave what he hoped would be the last running leap of his life, managing to ground the cauldron and sloshing only minimal amounts of beverage over the sides. Remus sat in opened mouth horror; Peter picked himself off the common room floor and hoped nothing interesting was happening upstairs. McGonagall wondered if her retirement fund was sufficient yet. And Sirius began to hum.

As he pulled the drawstring on The Bag.

And he began to rummage through it, still humming, and thought about the possibilities of things like de-housing one's school of the house-elf speciesand, especially, avenging Lily Evans.

It seemed like a good idea.

And Sirius lived for a good idea.

_

* * *

_

Well, that was, er, different than I expected. Probably I have been reading a bit too much Terry Pratchett recently. Yes, I do believe so.

For those just jumping in, remember that titles hold little or no importance to the story, or even relation to the plot. They can be found on though.

A warm, fuzzy pre-thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Let's see…

To **Rhya Stormbringer**…thanks! Making Peter loveable, er, sort of, is my specialty. I think.

To **Miss Piratess**…Thank you! Not sure about this chapter at all, I'm in sort of an odd mood…..

To **brickabrack**…I haven't thought about it, but Madame Snuffles should make a guest appearance later. I don't know when, but later. Thanks!

To **woodchip**…Have siblings, will decipher. Haha…yes, and here is where we find all the closet-Peter lovers. All those who say, 'HEY! He couldn't have betrayed them!' Yes, I am one. And thank you for the review.

To **Serious Fan**…thanks for the review. I sincerely hope that understanding my stories is considered optional when enjoying them, else no one may get this chapter.

To **brennQT**…Oh, I think he was a goofball in the books, he just didn't show it. Besides, it's easier to see him like this then like, say, a bully, or a playboy. And I think this more fits the personality of the man who skipped through his own house singing 'God rest ye merry hippogriffs.' Gotta love that man. And miss him. Sigh. Anyway, thanks for the review!

To **Queen Red Rum**…Thanks! Insanity is lovely this time of year, or so I'm told.

To **Freja Lercke Falkenborg**…Not so sure about this chapter. Oh well. You have a very long pen name, by the way. I'm finding myself curious about it's pronunciation. My updating, even if it is pure lunacy, means that you need to write fanfic too. You can do it! Anyway, thanks!

To **Jakkat**…Thanks! Hope this one was okay…..

To **Padfoot Snogger**…Thanks so much for all the reviews! It really helped me write faster, I think. Anyway, this chapter is a little longer, I think, but its been so long since I updated I don't think I can help it…..Thank you!

And, in the immortal words of Porky Pig,

"_TH-th-Tha-That's all Folks!"_

For now, at least.

For now.


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